


Stride

by TerriblyRogue



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, skimmons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 12:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2348045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerriblyRogue/pseuds/TerriblyRogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson and his team adjust to a new routine in the Playground as they deal with the unavoidable effects of Ward’s betrayal and begin S.H.I.E.L.D.’s reconstruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turnaround

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No characters in this story belong to me. All work and characters derived from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
> 
> Three statements from the author:
> 
> \- I have done this to myself, now I look to inflict my fanfiction upon YOU.  
> \- I have also learned that I will go to great lengths to make two fictional people kinda have a moment.   
> \- I am forever grateful for you even making it this far and considering a read.
> 
> Fourth statement form the author:
> 
> \- Thank you!
> 
> Skimmons!

Shy of ten hours he awoke. For Jemma Simmons, _he’s alive_ no longer sufficed, needing further answers as to what would become of him. Far from her team in the hospital where they had been summoned, she waited. A brimming cup getting colder every moment, keeping her hands warmer than she pleased. Still, she held it and stood near a window down the hall, her back to the commotion of the place. The drink was never meant for consumption, but she accepted the gesture with a courteous grin, considering it easier than retreating from the group without giving them proof she was able to function. They’d fuss. She needed to be left alone. Jemma was entranced in the smallest details observed in the street, both in importance and in scale. She traced an invisible line formed on the ground by the cars as they turned, their make, the color palettes, intervals between red and green, a man having a hard time parking his bike. Adequate distractions as she waited. She didn’t expect to be called back this quickly from the Playground, part of her too afraid to hope for Fitz to be absolved real lasting damage. 

Hospitals were no longer her type of place, something she learned about herself during Skye’s brief stay in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. Here the overall tone was friendlier, generically homey and unsettlingly lit. The calmed voice the staff assumed around her caused more concern than alleviation.

Vapory memories of a life before the Academy and S.H.I.E.L.D. were barely sustainable in her mind, and seemed to belong someone else, a woman fading. Still, she remembered how she loved the cold days, when the streets had a layer of moisture, reflecting the streetlights, and everyone seemed to be rushing back home, with puddles to jump over and gaps to mind. It was a quieter time, free to look for a reason to have a warm drink, perfect excuse for several layers of carefully chosen clothing. She now imagined how badly she’d like to have known Fitz back then, have them share one of the slow days, have long talks and tackle him to the ground before he ever had a chance to join the Academy. 

And he would have listened. She always knew he had felt at least a small amount of admiration for her, followed by a competitive urge and a healthy dose of jealousy, but she had hoped that was the end of it. Still she understood how powerless he had been to stop himself. She knew the feeling. Back when she questioned her future in S.H.I.E.L.D., she still thought of Fitz and herself as a team, and as she tried to steer her life in different direction, there was always the hope that Fitz would follow her as he always did. But she wanted him to chose for himself, she wanted only the weight of the own life on her shoulders. 

She knew she was of no use when she was fixing on the past. Regret, an ember that would last through the night. The same brain power she once devoted to contemplating solutions, sometimes more than one, running as parallel simulations looking for the best outcome, was now playing a constant loop. Fitz, saving her, had lost himself. She regretted her shortcomings, she regretted it was not her in that room. Had she got him out in time, or stepped in front of him instead. Had she never been presented with having to make such a choice at all. She let it linger in her mind for as long as she could, lest she finds herself living in the present once again. 

“You’re more than that,” he told her, before the pressurized metal box let the ocean in. Now she owed him a debt she could never repay. She was prepared, more than once, and to her own amazement, to give it all for the team. To throw yourself off a plane for the survival of many is a practical decision, or at the very least easily attributable as one. Leopold Fitz had, in contrast, acted unequivocally out of love. To have someone love her that much was a privilege, one that she wasn’t comfortable with.

By now, the medical team had most likely taken initial assessment of Fitz’s newest condition. The extent of the damage due to anoxia was unclear at the moment, needing him to wake up first. He had a good chance of being spared long term consequences, Jemma reckoned. He was young, he was put in a hyperbaric chamber - _a rite of passage among our team,_ Jemma thought, allowing herself a moment of levity- within minutes of being pulled from the ocean and had gotten out of the coma and was conscious in under twelve hours. The variables were locking down in most hopeful arrangement.

A practical mind like Jemma’s had those variables to focus on. Mere hours ago she had feared intensely, time dragged by slowly and took each moment a small fraction of her sanity along with it. The dread she knew when confronted with Fitz’s likely death, coupled with her own lone survival, had crept in her like only once before. When she entered Quinn’s state and frantically searched from room to room, she expected to find the immediate relief of Skye’s face. Instead, the broken voice in Coulson’s shouts had in an instant taken that option away. Running before she knew she was moving, glancing at Coulson’s face before lowering her gaze and seeing a body on the ground, _Skye, please,_ was the only thought that formed. Her body dripping blood, dimming life, hopeless and final. To never feel as if she was suspended in the dark when there was ground beneath her, she would be grateful.

“They say we can go in now,” Skye said softly, careful not to startle her. “I think he’ll want to see you first.” Jemma stared absently in Skye’s direction. She nodded, and readied herself after letting the cup fall in the trash bin near her. She crossed her arms, guarded for the future once again. Skye touched her shoulder as she passed by her, and followed, not knowing what to expect.

Thinking took a back seat to relief once they walked through the threshold of the room and saw him, eyes open, body beaten, arm broken and the glint of recognition in his face for her. An electric current flowed from her temple to her chest, what felt like the first breath she had taken in a whole day, now that she saw she had her friend back. “Jemma,” he said. Skye stood by the door, wearing a compassionate look she had seldom needed before joining S.H.I.E.L.D.

Jemma dropped her defensive stance and quickly closed the distance between them. She put her arms around him, just to make sure he was really there, and held tight. Fitz tried not to flinch and sunk into her. Jemma broke the embrace and sat on the bed, inspecting every part of him, assessing his condition for herself.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she said, her voice breaking, thinking admissions of guilt more appropriate at a later date.

“Jemma,” he said almost inaudible, looking over the room, not yet noticing Skye. “What happened?” he asked once he tried and failed miserably to construct a linear set of events prior the present.

“Fitz, you… I couldn’t leave you there,” she answered as calm as she could, “You saved us.” Fitz looked confused. His broken arm was no cause for such reaction from Jemma. 

“I—” he could see her now. “Skye,” he called. Skye came nearer, soft smile on her face, standing next to Jemma.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Ward?” he asked both, slowly tying the fragmented few memories he possessed. 

“He—,” Jemma said, looking at Skye and then lowering her gaze. “He’s in custody.” There was a finality to her tone disguising how the mention of his name rattled her. 

“Guys,” Skye said alerting them both to the door. May, Coulson and Triplett stood by the door, entering one by one, their expressions easing at the sight of him.

“Welcome back,” Coulson said, pleased. 


	2. Terrors

She howled in pain. Her best guess being she stepped on a belt buckle. Not like her to leave things around, but Jemma kept surprising herself in the last few days. She reached for the light switch in her quarters before heading out to Fitz’s room, keeping her steps light so she could hear and make out the gravity of the situation. It had been ten days since he’d been discharged by the medical staff.

She thought the idea rushed and foolish, but could not convince Fitz to do otherwise, and the risk of being found by Talbot was greater by the hour. He’d have to do with regular checkups in the coming months that only assessed his physical health. It wasn’t ideal. Jemma voiced her concerns, but ultimately agreed to his wish to return to the team and get back to work. Even though his actions on the day they were captured by Garrett were fragmented in his memory, Jemma could see he retained some of that grit.

She knew he hadn’t been so lucky as to leave that day with just broken bones. She recognized that his panic attacks were happening regularly. Ward left a mark, and Fitz began to deteriorate. The first few days were numb, and as time progressed he began to realize he could not make sense of events, losing continuity even when others gave their accounts to set him straight. The facts made no connection, his mind and body trying to protect him from something he couldn’t see. He was lost. Jemma wondered how many parts of him could chip away until he stopped being himself. He was locked in a course to try to relive the past until he could own it, make it all tie together. None of this fell within Jemma’s rather large field of expertise. 

“I’m fine, Jem,” he said, balancing himself upright and using his working arm to signal Jemma to stop. There were physiological responses to this kind of stress that she had a hard time ignoring. An increased respiration rate, a soaked forehead and shirt, the slight shaking. He retreated in himself once Jemma got close, avoiding eye contact for the first few seconds. 

“Again?” she asked, fully knowing the answer. As evident as it was to her that his body needed proper time to heal and process the trauma, something in her shook in agony every time she got to witness an episode.

“I’m sorry, Jem. Go back to sleep,” he said, slowing his breathing. 

“ _Fitz_ , don’t apologize,” she answered, sitting next to him, making it obvious she was there for him.

“What’s with you?” he asked, noticing Jemma’s limp when she came closer.

“Oh, never mind that, I simply weaponized my own quarters with sharp fashion,” she answered with a wry smile.

Fitz smiled.

“Best alert the team, rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is believed to be untidy and dangerous,” he said.

“Hey, not untidy. Just… tired lately,” she remarked.

“Sorry about that, Jem…” 

“Oh, it’s not that, I’m just still not used to… static rooms, I suppose. I somehow miss the Bus-”

“-And the lab…” he added.

“And the lab. Fury really must’ve overseen the retrofits to the lab personally, without any input from Sci-Tech. It’s better suited for baking at the moment, I’m afraid,” she said barely taking a breath in.

Fitz laid down and was now visibly better. Jemma knew this was her cue to go back to her own quarters, maybe managing to get some rest before the noise from the morning drills pertaining the more physically inclined members of the team made it impossible. She walked towards the hall and Fitz called her name once more, waiting for her to turn to him before he said, “We’ll make it better. Have a sanctioned dead cat area.” Jemma grinned and continued on her path.

She’d yet to have a conversation with him in which they weren’t both pretending normalcy. He didn’t seem to remember what he expected to be his last words, she believed, and couldn’t imagine there’d ever be a good time to mention it. Things needn’t be different, they were still a close team. Their interactions in the lab felt natural, familiar and safe. She didn’t want to jeopardize it. She loved him, clearly, but knew that he would have to figure things out on his own or not at all.

The hall was lit with a faint blue hue that made the edges of the furniture slightly visible, helpful with her the-not-running-into them plan. Out of the shadows on her way, a silhouette startled her. 

“Skye?” Jemma said, taking a guess.

“Is he okay?” Skye said coming closer, her arms crossed, keeping warm. She knew Fitz was having trouble adjusting, but always felt the need to through Jemma first when trying to get an update. 

Jemma was never comfortable giving absolutes or platitudes, but it was too late to get into it. “He’s… as expected,” she answered finally. “I didn’t think you’d hear him from your room.”

“I heard _you_. Went to your room, figured you got kidnapped and was on my way to the kitchen,” Skye said.

“Your concern is very touching,” Jemma said with an easy grin. Skye replied her expression in kind. The room felt a bit more silent.

"Simmons—“ Skye began saying.

“You must be exhausted. May has you on the ropes,” Jemma interrupted.

“Sometimes, literally,” Skye didn’t insist, it wasn’t the time to start a dialogue.

“I’m sure you give as good as you get,” Jemma said, the last words with a hint of embarrassment. Skye nodded agreeing, trying to put her at ease.

“I guess we better…” Skye broke the silence.

“Yes, good idea.” 

“Night, Simmons.”

“Good night, Skye.”


	3. Orientation

The Playground was scarcely populated. Billy Koenig made sure to make everyone feel welcome after an initial assessment of everyone’s loyalties in orientation. Knowing that Ward cheated the chair once before made the process less sensical, but everyone went along with it, and Melinda May seemed to get a kick out of Koenig’s insistence in protocol. Triplett anticipating Koenig’s comments about his lineage made for interesting interview. 

For over a week now things were calm in the base, with Coulson and Triplett taking stock of all remaining S.H.I.E.L.D. assets, occasionally requesting May’s help to make sense of some of the more dense paperwork. The Playground was aptly named, housing a fully stocked armory with some of the latest weapon and device prototypes Fury managed to hog, a lab, a briefing room that resembled the one in the Bus and a gym next to the hangar where the Bus, a jet, a helicopter and ground transportation were available, in addition to crew quarters, a mess hall and administrative offices. 

It was clear the walls had seen a lot of history, belonging at one point to the Strategic Scientific Reserve, evidenced by the great metal eagle hanging over the briefing room spelling it out for them. It was the place where Peggy Carter, Chester Philips, Howard Stark and Dr. Erskine had contributed to the birth of Captain America and the apparent defeat of Hydra. One of those rooms stored at one point the Vita-Ray Chamber, a notion that had Coulson and Triplett speculating for days as to what else the place had seen. 

The place had a different feel to it from other S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities. It was older, concerned with durability and survivability against a siege -explaining why it never became the public face of S.H.I.E.L.D.- and the decor had not been updated to the chrome spaceship standards that made the agency so recognizable, excluding wherever technology was concerned. Knowing it was built during WWII made sense of the precautions taken in it’s sturdy construction, being located far from densely populated areas and obscured from the sky. It was grounded, solid and with a single determined purpose. It had a timeless kind of feel that suited Coulson’s personality perfectly.

Skye had learned to traverse the Playground with ease, having during the last week gotten acquainted with the layout and making the system her own, adjusting it to fit her workflow. She used her Rising Tide background and connections to keep interested parties at bay, and her team off every radar. The future of S.H.I.E.L.D. would be determined by them, and the work they did. She would keep them safe however she could, searching for any exploit and plugging it, having contingency protocols in case of a breach and continuing to expand her abilities and use within the team. This meant her training as a field agent.

May and Triplett were very engaged in her development, keeping her on her toes, bonding over how fun it can be to assign tortuous circuits on the youngest among them. While Triplett always took time to explain the intricacies of being a specialist, it was May who took on the mantle of Supervising Officer and stressed self reliance. This meant early hours, long drills and breakfast being a reward rather than a right. It was a teaching dynamic that didn’t include any excess of words on May’s part, and admittedly, a lot of patience for Skye’s comments. Sessions required not only the performance of repetitive tasks until mastery of basic moves was acquired, but for Skye to read into every lesson May taught her, deconstructing every interaction. Melinda May was teaching her how to control her impulses, how to wait, breathe, get into someone else’s head and see a situation beyond the scope of the senses.

As much as she’d gotten the hang of May’s rhythm, she had yet to learn to properly block her left flank. 

“This isn’t a ring, there’s no bell, your opponent isn’t going to abide regulations. Pay attention, look for openings. The same kick at a hundred percent can crack your ribs,” May said as she got close to Skye, now on her knees exhaling quickly. 

“Okay, got it,” Skye said out of breath, but maintaining the usual bite to her voice, “That wasn’t a hundred?”

“Up,” May said ignoring the question.

They returned to their initial stances, Skye doing her best to maintain proper form in spite of her fatigued muscles. May began with two quick jabs that were easily dodged, followed by a right cross that Skye used as leverage to push May out of balance, as they’d practiced. May countered with a back fist dodged in a rather inelegant manner. The sparring went on, with May moving at a lower speed so Skye could get a sense of how her body moved. 

Skye’s mind was blank, focusing on her footwork and reacting each time a little bit faster and with a little bit more foresight to her opponent’s next move. It was a mind state she valued, adrenaline that shot up her chest and eyes and nothing to consider but the present. 

Her concentration was interrupted when she saw movement on the background, where Jemma and Fitz passed on their way to the mess hall. She hadn’t seen Fitz lately, _understandably_ , she thought, and noticed Jemma’s horse print blouse, a quick trip to the day she boarded the Bus as an asset. It only took a second to process both those thoughts, a distraction that May took as an opening to knock Skye on her back. “Extend your body as you hit the ground, distribute the impact,” May advised. 

The resulting thud got the scientists’ attention. Jemma gave Skye a commiserative look, and Fitz seemed rather entertained. He motioned for Jemma to get back on course and waved hello as he left, a gesture only May was able to acknowledge.

“Getting used to getting hit is part of your training,” May said, offering a hand for Skye to stand again. “When you’re not afraid of pain, you can focus on inflicting some yourself.”

Skye stood and catching her breath she answered, “There’s a title for your autobiography.”

“It’s a bit long,” May said, only a hint of a smile on her face, which Skye interpreted as successful bonding. “Ten minutes on the bag, then breakfast. We have a meeting afterwards.”

“Is Coulson finally moving us?” Skye asked. 

“We’ll find out,” May said, grabbing her training bag.

“When exactly am I supposed to shower?,” Skye said to her now far away S.O.

“You’ll manage, I believe in you” May answered, not bothering to speak any louder as she moved away. 

–

Billy Koenig sat in the middle of the mess hall, nursing a cup of coffee and looking over his tablet, looking up to welcome Skye to breakfast leftovers. She saw Fitz and Jemma still sitting, their plates aside, their eyes focused on a report. Ever since they got to the base, they’d learned to enjoy whatever free time they had, expecting to go back to a quicker, urgent pace at a moment’s notice. Before she got close enough to get some food, Koenig coughed and signaled to his chest. It was a moment before Skye understood. 

“Give me a break, Billy,” Skye said, reaching for her back pocket and putting her lanyard on. She gestured presenting her pristine ID.

"Agent Koenig is fine,” he said, knowing it was futile.

“Nope. Not yet. Billy’s fine,” Skye said. She still hadn’t gotten used to calling him Koenig, him sharing a face with Eric. She went for a tray.

He frowned and returned to his tablet.

Jemma moved over to allow room for Skye, a grin on her face. Somehow, with only a few hours of sleep, she was still a morning person. 

“You’ll adapt,” Fitz said looking at Koenig, getting the sugar packets closer to Skye with his right arm, bypassing Jemma.

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m just not getting the core concept of the _Living Decoys_ thing," Skye said, acknowledging Fitz’s gesture.

“ _Life Model Decoys_ ,” Jemma corrected. “Try thinking of him as Eric’s identical twin—” 

“—That happens to share his physiological traits and thought processes," Fitz added, his eyes lighting up a bit whenever he got to talk about something relating his field.

“I already think that about you two. Besides, I’ve seen _Aliens_ , I know what’s up,” Skye said. Jemma tended to react positively to Skye’s jokes. 

“I can hear you, Agent Skye,” Koenig said, not looking away from his tablet. 

“Yes, you do have exceptional hearing, don’t you?” Skye teased, this time causing Koenig to put away his tablet and staring them down. They’d been playing this game since they got to the Playground, Koenig evidently tired of it.

“Best finish that, Coulson wants a meeting,” Jemma said, pointing at Skye’s almost untouched breakfast. It was clear she’d only get to taste it before she had to leave.

“What do you think it’s about this time?” Fitz asked. Skye began eating faster. 

“Haven’t the faintest, but we’re past due for an outing,” Jemma answered.

“We’ll find out,” Skye got out finally. 


	4. Chase

Phil Coulson was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s newest Director, a title he’d yet to get used to, and every old friend they could reach for was now up to date on the agency’s newest commander. Even when he was considered the best hope for rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D.’s infrastructure from the ground up, the initial grind of the task before him had weighed him down. 

Once they reached the Playground and took stock of every asset they recuperated from Hydra’s grasp, his usual demeanor became more detached, unclear even to himself on whether it was due to his new position or finding himself staring days on end at the schematic Hydra was attempting to research and Garrett had instinctively drawn. He figured there’d be answers eventually, and did his best to keep the unexplained parts of his behavior from interfering with his job. 

There was no set plan on how to proceed, the Toolbox given to him by Fury being only the tracks for a road of his choosing. Coordinates to untouched bases and caches, secure lines of communication, connections to funds to keep them going and personnel files that remained useless until they could figure out their real allegiance. 

Now in his office, the stacks of white paper and reports, both SSR and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s, reflected the lights from the tall ceiling lamps on his face, making his weary expression all the more noticeable by the approaching team. He tried to make the room his own, with a few of his collectibles and limited editions matching the palette. 

May was already in with him. The further he got from the team, the better he seemed to communicate with her. The team was spread around his office, Skye setting her laptop on his desk. He stood from his chair, buttoned his blazer, took the Toolbox out of his pocket and left it on the desk.

“We need to operate under the assumption that we have no friends and no allies until they are proven otherwise. The Toolbox told us where to go and how to keep hidden while we lick our wounds, but it can’t tell us who to trust,” Coulson said as he activated the holocom and presented the team with a satellite image of an urban area. “Hill’s been feeding us intel, usually just updating us on the day’s events, but this time she thought we’d be of better use ahead of the curb.”

“What is this?” Triplett asked.

“The military has just finished getting through the wreckage left by Hydra. We have casualty reports, both S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra’s, seized bases, confiscated tech and detainee profiles,” Coulson answered.

“Any good news?” May asked.

“Possibly,” Coulson said, handing May a report. “I’m told surviving members of Sci-Tech were absorbed by the FBI’s Science and Technology Branch. Yet, several students and Agent Anne Weaver are still unaccounted for.” Jemma and Fitz looked at each other, hopeful. 

“Weaver made it out,” Fitz said.

“They think she did,” Coulson declared. “Yesterday, Hill received a message with this aerial image attached. The message was signed by Weaver and accompanied by her old security code. We have a small window before Hill has to share this with Talbot as part of their agreement. She would prefer we got to her before Talbot or Hydra, and I’m inclined to agree.”

“Sir, where is this?” Jemma asked, now involved in the conversation. 

“About two kilometers from Sci-Tech. She wants to be found,” Coulson answered. 

“She could be anywhere in the perimeter, if at all,” May said.

Jemma and Fitz examined the aerial image closer, trying to make out recognizable landmarks. 

“That’s a lot of ground to cover. Has she tried to make contact since?” Triplett said, crossing his arms.

“No, but we’re paying attention now, she might make an appearance that will let us close in on her,” Coulson said.

“I don’t like repeating myself, but I might be able to get eyes on the perimeter. My old NSA trick could get us ahead,” Skye suggested, laying back on her seat.

“The NSA. You want to hack the NSA? That’s a terrible idea, Agent Skye,” Koenig spoke from the background.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before, in a freakishly similar way,” Skye answered, somewhat alarmed at Billy’s likeness to Eric being more than just aesthetic.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Skye—” Fitz said, manipulating the aerial image as best he could with his working arm and prompting Jemma to share what they both knew.

“—We think we know where she is. Will be,” Jemma said. Coulson seemed impressed. “Back in the Hub Triplett and I used a secure line to contact her, she told me the Academy was under siege, and mentioned our old meeting spot.” Jemma looked closer at the image, roughly judging a now more recognizable map. “I would have attempted to contact her before now, I just didn’t she’d made it out.” Triplett loomed over her, in case he was needed for confirmation.

“She must want to meet us, otherwise why not just disappear?”, Fitz pondered.

“Maybe it’s too dangerous to move,” Triplett suggested.

“She’s very capable, if she wanted to, she’d find a way,” Jemma added.

“You and your headmaster had a private meeting point?” Skye asked, just catching up to the conversation. Jemma looked at her, as if she was about to reply. Coulson noted the interaction, but steered the direction back to the present mission.

“Where, exactly?” Coulson asked.

“A coffeehouse. We’d meet in broad daylight, she’d be there at noon,” Jemma offered.

“Good. She’s scared but she trusts you. I want you and Fitz to meet her. Bring her in, we’ll see what we can do for her and whoever she might be with,” Coulson said. May looked at him, disapproving of his choice for ground squad.

“We don’t know where her loyalties lie,” Triplett said. Jemma seemed offended at the implication.

“Or how she made it out,” May added.

“We find out. If she has students with her, we need to protect them. Skye, you’re going too,” Coulson said. Skye’s gaze shot up from her laptop and quickly agreed, eager. “Triplett and May will shadow you in case anything goes wrong. We’ll be close. May? An hour?” May nodded. ”We leave in an hour. Bring a coat, we might be there a while.” The prospect of leaving the base had already made an improvement upon Coulson’s mood.

“I’ll start system’s check. Skye, get your gear. You’re the muscle on this one,” May said, leaving the room.

“Okay—“ Skye said, closing her laptop and leaving her seat to follow her. “Solid plan.”

—

It had been a while since they’d boarded the Bus for anything other than unloading cargo and upkeeping, the first few days asking for a low profile and establishing the Playground as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s main base of operations. 

It was an odd feeling to be inside their old home. The structure was the same as they remembered, yet events had coated their memories giving them a new perspective. More so for Fitz, having a gut reaction to certain places without knowing the reason. At least the lab was still safe, the burden of Ward’s betrayal outweighed by his memories of Jemma.

While the Bus headed to their destination on autopilot, May and the rest of the team approached the command center to be briefed and get Jemma’s insights on Agent Weaver and profiles on the missing cadets. 

“It might go smoothly,” Coulson said, trying to assure Fitzsimmons.

“I’m sure it will. Triplett and May are nearby, we’ll be fine,” Jemma said, posturing confidence. 

“You _also_ have me. Nearby-er” Skye said, feeling neglected.

“Of course, Skye, I didn’t mean—” Jemma clarified. Triplett thought it entertaining. 

“—Guys,” Coulson interrupted, as he often felt the need with them. “Go to the lab, get your gear. We’re about to land, and after that it’s a considerable drive, you can talk each other out then.” He started walking on his way to his office while the rest went to the lab. 

They got their comms setup and tested, and it was time to decide on weaponry. Fitz and Jemma would be taking I.C.E.R.s. May instructed Skye to do the same in addition to a vest.

“You’re not teaching me the ways of _If I need a gun, I’ll take one_?” Skye asked jokingly.

“No. If you see a gun, you take it,” May answered as she handed her an I.C.E.R. and fitted her kevlar underneath her button-up shirt, obscuring it. “Fitzsimmons aren’t wearing armor, so you’re the first line of defense.” Skye looked over at the scientists and nodded. “Don’t screw up.”

May oversaw the team, she would be coordinating from the van with Triplett and keeping out of sight as to not scare Weaver off, parking far enough from the south entrance to be unseen.

The place Jemma mentioned was a perfect meeting place. It was an old colonial building that was repurposed as a coffeehouse and it’s security system was low grade, impeding any face recognition software to work properly. If Weaver was coming here regularly, it wouldn’t be difficult to remain hidden. A few tables were positioned in a way that gave them a view of every direction, without necessarily being noticed themselves. It had enough charm as to always be almost at capacity, allowing them to blend in.

Fitz and Jemma shared a table and Skye sat nearby, making sure to order and consuming drinks to keep them above suspicion. 

“She might give up on trying to meet you, Jem,” Skye heard Fitz say over the comm.

“We have to give her a chance. I should’ve come here sooner,” Jemma replied, frustrated.

“You didn’t know she was alive. Besides, we haven’t been exactly vacationing,” Fitz said. Jemma accepted his reasoning.

“If she doesn’t show up soon, I don’t think we’ll be able to find her again,“ Jemma offered, concerned.

“If she doesn’t show up soon, I’ll overdose on the coffee I keep ordering for no reason,” Skye said lightly, not looking at the Jemma and Fitz’s table.

“It’s a big day for you, Agent Skye. Please don’t make me tell May we need to abort an op on account of your stomach ache,” Jemma teased. Skye snickered. Jemma’s outbursts of sass increased in frequency as you got to know her.

“You know, you could order something else,” Fitz noted, trying to look inconspicuous.

“Nah, I feel like my undercover persona has a caffeine problem,” Skye said, covering her mouth as much as possible when she spoke. “That’s it, I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be back in a minute. How copy?”

“What?” Jemma said, with a higher pitch.

“You’re supposed to say _good copy_ ,” Fitz said to Jemma.

Skye got off her seat and motioned to the waiter for directions to the bathroom. He pointed to the far side of the room, near the east entrance. She walked over, looking at the windows. Distracted, she bumped lightly into one of the tables, knocking the salt shaker over. She put it back upright and looked outside, where Weaver looked back for a second before recognizing her. She saw a glimmer beneath her jacket. 

She began running to the north, Skye barely having reacted. 

“I’m made, I’m going after her. North side of the building! Fitzsimmons, stay there,” Skye said as she ran outside and gave chase. It was a bright day, taking a moment to adjust to the lighting. She frantically looked for Weaver. Adrenaline didn’t make the job easier, tunnel vision requiring focus to avoid. Weaver was fast for a member of academia, nearing the next intersection in seconds. She turned to the alley unexpectedly.

“Fitz!” Skye heard Jemma say over the comm.

“The alley!” Skye shouted, to be heard over the traffic. She entered the alley and pulled her I.C.E.R. There was nothing in sight but crates and garbage cans. “Agent Weaver? I’m with S.H.I.E.L.D. We need to talk to you,” Skye said as she slowly advanced through the alley. It would be a minute before May and Triplett got there, being parked on the opposite direction they had advanced. “I’m Agent Skye. I’m part of Coulson’s team. I’m with—”

“—I know who you’re with,” Weaver said, as she took a step aside from the corner with a pistol pointed at Skye’s chest. “I’m not aiding Hydra.”

“I’m not with Hydra, I’m with Simmons— Jemma,” Skye said lowering her weapon, keeping one hand up. She knew May would be mad if she saw her do that. Weaver seemed unconvinced and steadied her aim with her free hand.

“We’re here to help!” Skye shouted, regretting her decision to lower her weapon. To simply knock Weaver out would have been preferable to getting a lesson on her vest’s stopping power.

“Agent Weaver!” was heard from behind them. Jemma and Fitz had taken the alternate entrance to the alley, and were out of breath. Weaver turned as soon as she recognized the voice, her pistol still trained on Skye.

“Jemma. Fitz. Thank goodness, you’re all right,” Weaver said, turning to Skye, trying to remember her name, lowering her pistol.

“—Skye. We met before,” Skye said, exhaling deeply, signaling an approaching May and Triplett that the situation was under control. 

“I’m sorry about that, there’s not a lot of people I can trust nowadays. Anyone could be Hydra,” Weaver said. 

“Tell us about it,” Jemma said. 


	5. Recirculation

Back in the Bus, Anne Weaver sat comfortably in the interview room. In front of her, Coulson looked over reports, waiting for Jemma. The door opened and Jemma walked in with a bottle of water in hand, offering it to Weaver. She accepted and noted the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on it. She puffed.

“Director now, Coulson?” Weaver said. Coulson shrugged.

“Agent Weaver, thank you for agreeing to come in,” Jemma said with deference.

“And for abiding our precautions for this debriefing,” Coulson said.

“I understand. Although I believe you can drop the _Agent_ when addressing me,” Weaver said.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is not staying down. We still have a job to do. And we need help from people like you,” Coulson said closing the reports.

“Agen— Anne. If you don’t mind, could you tell us how you managed to escape Sci-Tech?” Jemma asked. 

“I almost didn’t. By the time we realized the siege started, our defenses were in disarray. It was— chaos. Hydra was cornering us. I made my way to the cadets’ quarters, taking with me every cadet I could get out of the crossfire. We barricaded ourselves. Callie, you met her, was with me, and five other cadets. We know our halls much better than Hydra and got there before they did, but we wouldn’t last long. We were going to be breached, no matter what. Nothing I could do to stop it,” weaver said, taking a sip of water. “I remembered Donnie Gill’s room. We confiscated all of his inventions, and tore his room apart looking for anything that might be dangerous. His hiding spots lead to the electrical system, from there on we crawled our way until we were out of the main building” She looked to her right the whole time trying to remember.

“Are these the students you mentioned?” Coulson said, sliding over a list. Weaver looked it over.

“These six here. The other students, I didn’t see after the siege,” Weaver said, pointing to six names, Callie’s among them.

“We hoped the students might still be with you,” Jemma confessed, always keeping her tone more familiar than Coulson’s.

“No. After we left the premises, we encountered two Hydra soldiers. I was shot in the arm. Superficial wound, but then I was knocked unconscious. When I regained my senses a few hours later, I was alone, my wound had been dressed in a hurry to stop the bleeding. I hid until I saw an opening and made my way out.”

“Who dressed your wound?” Coulson asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t imagine it was Hydra,” she replied.

“Do you know where your students might have been taken?” he asked.

“I saw trucks. I think they were mobilizing some of their prisoners. I overheard mention of a place near the coast. That’s all I know. For a week I attempted every covert way of communication to S.H.I.E.L.D. and got nothing back. That’s when I decided to finally stop with the subtleties,” Weaver explained.

“The message,” Jemma said.

“I thought it was worth a try. I hoped you were well, and were in a position to help,” Weaver said. “These students are my responsibility. I need to know if they’re alive. I just lost my entire faculty. I couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it.”

“I sympathize,” Coulson said leaning closer to the table between them. “We’ll do what we can for them.”

“First, I need to show you something.” She opened her jacket and tore off a patch, concealing a USB drive and leaving it on the table. “Preliminar data from experiments, schematics, all I could recover from my office backup that I couldn’t afford falling into enemy hands.”

“Thank you for this.”, Coulson said grabbing the drive. “Jemma, get this to Skye.” He slid the drive over to her, making sure Jemma got his meaning. “We still need to get you through orientation once we reach the Playground. You’ll love it, it’s very engaging.”

—

Skye was immersed in her laptop in the lab, close to Fitz who was attempting to control the holotable with one arm.

“Anything interesting?” Jemma asked, hovering over her.

“Just killing time. Thanks for having my back. She’s very imposing for a professor type,” Skye mentioned moving her head to the side and making only Jemma’s torso visible.

“This holotable is discriminating against me, I need to modify it,” Fitz said to no one in particular as he failed to make the holotable work properly. “Bloody hell,” he mouthed. 

“She was an Agent before she was the headmaster,” Jemma said.

“You really were close with her, huh?” Skye teased. Jemma deflected.

“Coulson wants you to look this over. I think he wants to make sure it’s safe before we try to upload any schematics in it,” Jemma said, giving her the drive. 

“No problem,” Skye said, receiving it and plugging it into her laptop, running a program that scanned for any malicious code. 

A sharp electrical sound brought their attention to the holotable. 

“Fitz!” Jemma shouted, when she saw he had punched the table in frustration and was now nursing the pain by putting his fist near his chest. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“Sorry,” Fitz said, his expression angered and trying to temper himself. His free hand was up, demonstrating he was under control. “Sorry.” Jemma looked at Skye, who was staring back at her, expecting some clues as to Fitz’s behavior as of late, his sudden outbursts.

The room was silent for a moment, none of them knowing how to continue. Fitz walked over to the opposite table.

“It’s ready. It’s clean. I’ll upload it to the ship’s computer,” Skye said, thankful for the diversion. “It’ll be a minute.”

“Thanks,” Jemma said.

Jemma neared the holotable, checking it worked and pulled the schematics as they uploaded. 

“This is Donnie’s freezing device. They actually coupled this with witness accounts and detailed readings from the storm incident at the Academy,” Jemma said, a puzzled look on her face, “They never let go of power, do they?”

“I believe it was Cave Johnson who said _"Science isn’t about why. It’s about why not_ ,” Fitz said, getting closer to Jemma. 

“Who?” Skye asked. Jemma looked at her and shook her head. She’s had this talk many times before.

“Don’t get him started,” she said, waving the files off with her hand. “Still, I can’t help from thinking that this reasoning is why Garrett became so dangerous in the first place,” Jemma said and kept skimming over projects. One of them caught Fitz’s attention.

“Wait. What was that? Go back,” he said, making Jemma stop. Skye stood up and got on their side of the table to get a better view. 

“What do you see?” Skye asked, curious.

“Why would S.H.I.E.L.D. have this? It’s data on the theta brain-wave frequency machine. Or something very similar to it. I thought this was part of the Centipede Project,” he said, looking closer at the data.

“It was. This has very different applications, look at the data. It’s a completely different design, except theirs didn’t reach prototype stage,” Jemma said.

“Wait. The machine Raina used on Coulson?” Skye said.

“Yes,” Fitz said. “We can still use this, fine-tune it to be less traumatic to the user. It doesn’t have to be tortuous,” Fitz said.

“Less tortuous still seems plenty tortuous to me, you didn’t see Coulson while he was on it,” Skye said, hoping to be a voice of reason. 

“Fitz,” Jemma said, trying to dissuade him from going down this particular rabbit hole.

“Who’s the head of this project, anyway?” Skye asked looking at Jemma. She studied the file.

“Callie Hannigan,” she answered, realizing the implications. “Her profile said she was at risk of defecting, but I don’t think she’s at the level of designing the theta brain— this machine to completion. Centipede’s was far too sophisticated.”

“I forgot all about this. We have it in storage at the Playground,” Fitz said, focused to the point of blocking everything else out. “Brilliant.”

“I’ll alert Coulson. This might change things,” Skye said and walked back to the interrogation room. They would be reaching the Playground soon enough.


	6. Standby

Koenig welcomed Weaver, and promptly submitted her for orientation. The rest of team gathered in the briefing room to look over their findings. Once Weaver was given the okay by Koenig, she would be stationed in the Playground, and start helping with the logistics of rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson would be careful with the intake of new agents in his circle to a fault.

“Weaver shared some important information we need to act on. The students she mentioned could still be alive. But there’s facts about Callie Hannigan we need to consider,” Coulson said, his arms crossed.

“She’s Hydra?” May said.

“I think so. Weaver said Callie was the reason they evaded Hydra as long as they did on their way out. Maybe she had a change of heart, using her status as sleeper agent to keep them alive,” Coulson said, his posture more relaxed.

“She’s an asset then?” Triplett said. Coulson nodded.

Koenig knocked on the open door, announcing his presence. Coulson waved him in. He traversed the room to the bar and got himself a cup of coffee and opened a packet of cookies while the team continued its meeting.

Coulson explained the parameters of a possible rescue. The location of the Hydra base had been narrowed down to a few possible locations, suspected Hydra strongholds they uncovered in the weeks of going through the paperwork, following S.H.I.E.L.D.’s real state acquisitions that never served any official purpose.

“It’s going to be heavily guarded, we’d need to know the layout, security codes, not to mention the possibility of hitting the wrong base. We don’t know exactly how Hydra operates,” Triplett said.

“I don’t supposed Garrett ever got drunk and told you about it,” Coulson said.

“No. But we do have access to someone that might be more familiar with the subject,” Triplett said.

“Ward,” May said. Skye’s expression changed, suddenly angered, and walked over next to Koenig. She grabbed one of the cups and poured some coffee. She lifted her gaze and saw Koenig. He smiled politely. _Ward murdered a man just like him_.

“Word is he’s resisting interrogation. He’s not giving them anything of worth. We’ve tried incentives, intimidation, isolation— We’ll break him, it’s a matter of time. But we don’t have the time,” Coulson offered.

“He’s trained to resist,” Fitz said, under his breath. Jemma looked at him, unsure of how hearing his name would make him react.

“Their interrogation methods could escalate,” May said, her expression controlled.

“We’re not that kind of people. Not yet, anyway. Besides, there’s nothing we can throw at him he won’t see coming,” Coulson said.

“Throw _me_ ,” Skye said, unflinching. “That sounded more badass in my head.” 

“Skye?” Jemma said, hoping she misunderstood. Skye returned her look, but recommitted to her intent.

“Absolutely not. You’re not cleared for conducting interrogations,” Koenig said.

“None of us are. May’s lanyard still says she’s just an administrator. Just give me some pointers and get me in a room with him. I can _handle_ Ward,” Skye said.

“Emotional approach,” Coulson pondered. May was not on board, and he could see. “It could work, but it might not be worth it,” he said, giving her an out.

“We’re gonna have to talk to him at some point. It might be the only way to get the students out alive,” Skye said, doing her best not to show how shaken she was.

“We need some time,” May said, defeated.

“You’ll have it. We’ll reconvene tomorrow. Dismissed,” Coulson said.

—

Jemma Simmons was aware of the tension between Skye and a now absent Ward. She wished she could have spared some of her energy to lend an ear during those last few days after the Hydra siege, so she might feel entitled to show concern now. But they were busy, they had a mission, and Skye was unreachable, even as she stood right before them. Even then she knew Skye cared, deeply, for her team. A certainty she treasured. 

Whatever thread she started to pull on at the Hub when trying to ascertain Skye’s blood properties, she knew would unravel eventually. It seemed to her that everyone on that base walked around with their own secret, their own piece of knowledge and perspective that was hidden from the rest. She could not let that bother her, she couldn’t carry on looking at Skye and seeing not only a friend, but a project. But what an intriguing project she made.

Skye had become proficient at the heavy bag, or so it appeared to an untrained eye. Jemma thought that making things look easy was the mark of excellency. She was wearing headphones, unaware of Jemma’s presence. This, coupled with her stance in the shadowy entrance to the hangar that doubled as a gym, it made her feel part lurker, part vigilante. 

“Burning extra energy?” Jemma said, stepping out of the shadows, arms crossed, keeping warm.

“What?” Skye said, a bit to loudly, before realizing she needed to take her headphones off. She repeated her question softly, stopping her workout, checking her hand wraps. 

“I thought you’d be tired. Chasing after Weaver and everything,” she said.

“I’m wired, I wasn’t turning in early anyway,” Skye said, sitting on a bench and reaching for a water bottle. 

“May was her usual terrifying self at the briefing. She’s really taken to you. Protective,” Jemma said, examining the heavy bag distractedly.

“She’s tough love personified, all right,” Skye answered.

“I think we’re all a bit worried.”

“About what?”

“You seeing Ward. You don’t have to do this.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I wouldn’t be. Not after Fitz,” Jemma said, her expression sobering up. Skye began undoing her hand wraps.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt. I don’t care what we get out of it,” Jemma said.

“I won’t,” Skye answered earnestly. She motioned to the empty space beside her. “How’s Fitz doing? And please don’t say _as expected_ , he’s been acting strange.” Jemma took the invitation and sat next to her, her elbows resting on her knees and cradling her face.

“I think he might be suffering from an anxiety disorder,” Jemma said, finally summoning the will to say it. “He’s been erratic, having panic attacks, nightmares. I can’t help him. Not in any real way.” Jemma focused her attention on ground beneath her. “I failed.” Her practical mind once again looping the past. 

“We all did. But I’m done blaming myself. Tired of it. We never stood a chance. He was in our heads, he knew which buttons to push and he used us,” Skye said, her voice low.

Jemma stood from the bench, her hands on her sides and began pacing slowly still close to Skye, avoiding her gaze. “I brought him into this. It’s my fault.” She paused. “He told me he loved me. He was ready to die for me.” She was looking at Skye now, who’s expression was trying to remain still. They hadn’t discussed this before.

“You wouldn’t let him. And how many times have you done the same for us?” Skye reminded her.

“What if he’s never—” Jemma stopped herself from saying the words.

“—This is not on you,” she stressed, standing next to Jemma, her hand instinctively reaching for Jemma’s arm. “Simmons—” Jemma followed the trace from Skye’s hand to her eyes. They were soft, compassionate and trusting. _Still_ , Jemma thought. 

“Skye, a moment,” May called out, standing next to Triplett on the door. She needed to go over interrogation methods, getting a better understanding of what to expect. Jemma turned her head, moving for the exit to leave them to their work.

“Simmons, wait,” Skye said, letting go of her. Simmons turned, now closer to Triplett and May. Skye took a moment to gather her words. “Let’s get drunk after this.” Jemma laughed heartily.

“Sure thing, Skye.”


	7. Games

They reached the compound where Ward was being kept. Hill had made arrangements, trusting her contacts to allow access to their prisoner without interference. While Fitz, Jemma and Triplett kept the Playground secured and made preparations, Coulson, Skye and May made their way into the prison. The one thing no one thought to mention about the S.H.I.E.L.D. lifestyle what the sheer amount of checkpoints.

Natural light was at a premium, the place by design breaking its prisoners. A limited palette, hard walls and harder beds. The team was stripped of their devices and weapons. May was only one unperturbed by this.

The security guards guided Skye down the halls to Ward’s cell. Skye would see him now. He lifted from his cot, turned around and was handcuffed. He turned once more and was guided to the interview room. He was unkempt, his quiet stance different somehow. It was still alarming how she could not find the man she knew in him. 

The guards sat him down and transferred his handcuffs to the railing in the room. Here was the solitary window leading to the outside, perhaps meant to put the interviewees at ease.

Skye took a step inside and made way for the guards to pass. Ward hadn’t made a sound, but seemed not at all surprised Coulson would eventually send Skye. He had told her he loved her, but chose to remain attached to the man that had shaped his entire life. He must’ve owed Garrett a great deal to go to the lengths he had. 

Skye knew he was grieving. She could use it.

“I heard you’re really good at following orders, so I got you some,” Skye said, leaving the folder with the possible locations to the Hydra base on the table.

Ward said nothing, and shifted in his seat.

“We need to know how your friends operate. We think cadets taken from Sci-Tech were taken to one of these locations,” Skye said showing him the satellite images. “We want to know where they’d be taken, their defenses, the layout and whatever else you might know about these places that will help with their extraction.”

“We?” Ward said, staring at her.

“You haven’t been cooperating so far. I’m giving you this chance to do something decent that might help keep you alive,” Skye said. “I can see you drowning in a well and I want to throw you a life line.” Ward reacted to that almost unnoticeably, but seemed to derive some pleasure from Skye’s cruelty. Still, he remained silent.

“So you’re still loyal to Hydra? Even after your master died?” Skye taunted. 

“Hydra was just a tool,” he answered. His posture predatory.

“As were you. He must’ve been quite the father figure. Teaching you all about having no mind of your own, making you strong so he could step on you,” Skye kept provoking. She could see he was beginning to react. Having the rage of a berserker made for poor self control.

“You have no idea I’ve been through. You think you and Coulson are the good guys? Don’t be stupid, Skye. Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D.? You really think they’re different? What did you think it was that S.H.I.E.L.D. did? How they operated, who they deemed expendable. Fury only ever cared about himself. There’s a reason why he barely noticed Hydra,” Ward seethed. 

“You’re right. I’ve been reading up on Hydra. They’re not as bad as I thought. You’re not strictly nazis as much as a well rounded terrorist organization filled with high functioning psychopaths. I _am_ disappointed they didn’t make you wear the green and yellow jumpsuit. With your skin tone and that jawline— it’s a real shame,” Skye said.

He began calming down and looked in her direction. ”Skye,” he said with a familiar tone. He managed to coerce the old Ward out.

“Don’t do that.” She said. “Don’t say my name like you know me. You either help me or you don’t. But we are _not_ friends.”

“Oh, are you gonna let something personal get in the way of your mission, _Skye_? I can say I avoided that at least.”

“I noticed. I noticed you didn’t think twice before tossing Fitz and Simmons to their death.” 

“I’m the one that’s supposed to get emotional, Skye,” he taunted. 

“You really are a monster,” she said coldly. _Make him think he’s in control_ , May had told her.

“So what? S.H.I.E.L.D. needed monsters. And I tried to protect you. I would’ve protected you when you realized what you really are.”

Skye wasn’t going to bite. 

“Simmons didn’t tell you, did she?” Ward continued. “A.C.? You have the blood of a monster. Raina told me a few things about you.” 

“What the hell are you on about?”

“Your parents. They slaughtered a whole town searching for their baby girl. You’ve got something dark in you. I’d bet it’s only reason S.H.I.E.L.D. kept you close all these years. They like to harness their monsters.”

Skye looked at him, assessing his words and their veracity and saw no point in continuing down this path. She sat down. 

“Let’s start over,” she said. “You’re smart. You want to be the necessary-evil-go-to-guy in the agency? Enjoy the vitamin D perks that come with it? You’ve gotta give me something.”

Ward got tired of playing as well. He reached for the image as far as his constraints would allow and took a moment to think until he recognized the base.

“They’d be taken here”, he said, pointing at one of the images. “You’re not gonna get in with a direct approach. Low level security checkpoints I can tell how to avoid, but that only gets you so far.”

“Let me worry about that. What’s in there?“

“I don’t know. Databases, recruitment dossiers, encrypted communications. I’ve never been there, but they’re usually laid out the same way to keep continuity when relocating.”

Ward explained the layout and what to expect in terms of forces and response times. If they were unaware of an incoming attack, they would prioritize secrecy over security, leaving several openings to the compound. Skye couldn’t help but try to learn from her old S.O.

“Thanks,” Skye said with contempt as she stood and made her leave.

“Skye.”

“What?” Skye was poised again.

“Fitz?” Ward asked, unable to hide his concern.

Skye considered granting the answer and easing his conscience. “You don’t get to know about him.”


	8. Frequency

The lab was a mess. Jemma’s absence had allowed for the engineer to follow his impulses untempered by her supervision. Electrical outlets at capacity, power cables spread around and monitors setup next to a familiar device. The theta brain-wave frequency machine was out of storage and in front of the biochemist. Fitz had made it work. Triplett had warned her that Fitz asked for his help on a project he considered risky. She asked to talk to him beforehand. 

“Fitz,” Jemma said, hoping Fitz was in the process of dismantling the setup.

Fitz’s gaze shot in her direction, surprised. His pace accelerated, checking the data from the drive and the readings from Coulson’s session.

“Jem.” 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I need to know what happened,” he said and he continued his revision of the data. 

“You know what happened,” she declared. 

“I need to remember it. All of it,” he said, stopping his reading. 

“Fitz, I— We don’t know if this procedure will have _any_ benefit at all—”

“—Jemma, please,” he said.

“If anything, we have evidence to the contrary,“ she said resolved to voice her concerns.

Fitz stood for a moment, contemplating the correct way to say the words he needed. “I remember what I said to you,” he offered. “I remember that part of it, at least.” 

Jemma was quiet. She hadn’t expected that.

“And that you haven’t brought it up is a good indicator on where we stand.” He walked closer to her, took her hand from her side and looked at her trying to engage her. It was the same distance he was to her when they were under sea. “It’s okay, Jem. You’re my best friend too.” He smiled softly. “You have to let me try this.”

Jemma took a deep breath. She nodded and held him. She was grateful for him. She knew there was nothing left to say. 

The process would be mostly automated. Fitz was given a shot to aid the meditative state he would enter. Jemma would monitor his readings, keep him safe while he searched for answers. Once Triplett got there, he would assist. She needed to ask questions about the day, to trigger the memories. She despised having to relive it herself.

Fitz laid down, electrodes attached to his temple. Triplett observed, hoping his presence would put Fitz at ease. Jemma began the procedure and started asking her questions. 

Fitz was making progress with the less exciting parts of the day, accurately describing events in order. The machine stimulated theta brain wave frequencies, linked to deep meditative states and enhanced memory while awake. It was a slower, more relaxed brain state that could in theory allow access to the subconscious. The way Raina used it on Coulson was torture. This was Fitz’s choice.

If Fitz could reconstruct that day, it might help with his rehabilitation, giving him a way to deal with the trauma that he had no defense for while he slept, perhaps avoiding long-term psychological repercussions. Jemma had considered this a possibility, but wanted to avoid a treatment had no precedent. 

Getting closer to the main event, his heartbeat accelerated, and began showing signs of stress. Jemma instructed Triplett to supply a mild sedative. He complied. His brain activity lit up. The monitors warning of what was obvious at plain sight. 

“Maybe we should stop it,” Triplett commented.

Jemma agreed. Fitz was shaking in place, crying out. When Jemma deactivated the device and tried to jolt Fitz back to her, he reacted and pushed her out of the way into a table.

“Fitz!” Jemma yelled, trying to bring him back.

“Don’t do this, Ward!” he shouted, his voice gravelly. 

“Fitz! Listen to me. You need to calm down,” she said, waving for Triplett to help her with him. Fitz slid to the floor, breathing heavily, returning to the present. Jemma joined him on the floor and tried to calm him.

She waited for him to settle. Whatever he saw, it was the trigger to his anxiety. There were tears on his face, and Jemma could barely contain her own. Still, her scientific instinct to collect data took over, and finally she asked him, “What did you see?”

He couldn’t look at her. His gaze was hard and sudden. He could see it all clearly now.

“It’s a weakness.”


	9. Stars

May made sure to approach Skye on her way back to the Bus, asking for a copilot to the Playground. She long ago understood the value of silent company. It had become the only way she could support those she cared about that she had no qualms about. Words can fail, be dishonest and cruelly hopeful, something she was uncomfortable with.

May didn’t imagine herself ever as a teacher, not after Bahrain. When Fury tasked her to keep an eye on Coulson, she had found the only thing that could ever motivate her to get back in the field. The qualities Coulson possessed needed to be protected, the ugliness kept at bay. 

She saw some of those qualities in Skye, she also saw the potential for her to become as isolated and closed off as she once was. If she could do for Skye what Coulson did her, she might help her avoid some of that pain. Not that her mentorship would be devoid of it. 

The ride back was quiet. Skye needed to think about what Ward had said. She’d still to have a reaction. Sometimes shaping what we’ll become is as simple as deciding what type of person we can live with, she thought. Skye couldn’t be as weak as Ward. Her eyes were opened. She knew she had a choice.

—

She was numb as she walked the halls in the Playground, not quite knowing where she was going. If she had a purpose, she still didn’t know it. She just needed to keep going.

She found herself inside one of the oldest S.S.R. rooms in the base, left untouched since the 1940s, perhaps out of nostalgia. The room was big, with an observation booth that towered over the old dusty machines. Metal stairs guided the way down. She supported her weight on one of the railings, and stood there suddenly aware of the cool air on her cheeks.

“Mind if I join?” Jemma said, standing on the door. Skye didn’t expect to see her so soon. 

“No, I was just— staring into the distance,” Skye said. This may have been the core of her personality, no energy for extra layers to hide behind. 

“There’s a lot of that going around,” Jemma said, still unsure if she was intruding. Still, she went near the railing and looked down at the legacy that remained. “It’s like staring into the night sky.”

“How?” Skye asked, intrigued. She didn’t follow, still coming out of her transient state.

“It makes you feel small,” she said, sparing a glance in Skye’s direction. “How many people stood here before us, how many individuals made a choice to serve a single purpose, progress that requires more than a single lifetime. All their sacrifices. Even if we’re erased form history, nothing can change what happened. To be part of that— it feels like it’s going to swallow me whole.”

“Well, good job not overthinking it,” Skye said. Jemma grinned.

“It’s my job to overthink, Skye.” It was the first time she heard her name since the prison. The difference in tone was remarkable.

“There _is_ a lot of history here,” Skye agreed as she looked up and around, back to Jemma for a brief moment. They stood quietly there, both their minds filled with questions.

Finally Jemma broke the silence and said, “Your meeting.”

“We got what we needed. We wait until tomorrow, after dark. Easier to breach.”

“And what did _you_ get?”

Skye considered revealing what Ward said about her. “Not a thing.” Skye avoided Jemma’s eyes. “Nothing worth talking about.”

“Skye,” Jemma said, sensing she was still shaken.

“Do you believe people can change?” Skye asked suddenly.

“I do. I just think it’s harder to change for the better,” she answered.

“I guess you’re right,” Skye said, half believing Ward’s predictions. Jemma saw a trace of fear on Skye’s expression.

“Skye, what is this about?”

“I wonder how Ward started, how he became what he is. Did he even notice?”

“Skye,” Jemma could sense the direction her mind was taking her to. “You are nothing like him. You could never be like him. You care.” 

Skye looked straight at her. If Ward was right, she was a ticking bomb. Jemma had shown a tendency to act selflessly, protect those around her at any cost. She could be one of the few that shifted into something better. She was in awe of her. 

Her eyes sharpened, her breathing was deeper. She was still just following her instincts, and she could not believe how small the shift in perspective made Jemma seem completely different. It crept up on her, the realization. Jemma was a road that kept her from getting lost.

She got close to her and her lips were on Jemma’s. She was startled, but soon wrapped her arms on Skye’s sides, swaying her closer still. It was a desperate kiss, as if there was no time, afraid of it ending before they were prepared. 

Jemma’s practical mind wanted only to focus in the present that included Skye. She took a breath and placed her hand on Skye’s face. 

“Sorry,” Skye said, hoping she hadn’t transgressed. 

“Don’t be,” Jemma answered, pulling her closer once more, Skye turning her and pressing her up against the stair railing. Jemma instinctively looked down, holding on tighter to Skye. 

“Careful,” she said.

“I’ve got you.” 


	10. Extraction

Night fell and the team was ready to attempt the extraction of the cadets. The Hydra base fitted Ward’s description of the layout as far a they could see from the hill they waited on. It was a large expanse of land connected to the water, apparently housing not just prisoners and one of Hydra’s databases, but a range of underwater vehicles.

The compound stretched for a kilometer, every corner covered by a sniper, the main entrance -a tunnel, heavily guarded- indicated that the structure hid most of its qualities underground. Military vehicles were parked in front of the entrance, providing last possible cover if it came to it. 

Recon for the last half hour provided for patrol routes. These were far enough from one another to allow for them to sneak by and get closer to the shore, where Ward had mentioned was the possible blind spot in their defenses.

They began moving, it would only be twenty meters before they would be in range for one of the snipers to notice them. They weren’t on alert and the team had the advantage of darkness and the roar of the ocean covered the sound of their movement. Coulson stopped the team following Weaver’s instructions. She and Fitz stayed on the hill to provide guidance and cover their escape route. It was time for Triplett to take a guard out with his I.C.E.R. rifle.

It was a clean shot to the neck, the only exposed area on his body. He fell back into darkness. Triplett prompted Jemma for a high five, which she proudly accepted. May observed the interaction, remembering how young the rest of her team was. 

They were hugging the wall to the compound, Simmons using the device Fitz gave her to decode the frequency for the gate control. Once it was done, they entered the facility, Coulson, May and Triplett taking out they three guards that had gone to inspect the phantom ship approaching. 

“Okay, you’re up, Skye,” Coulson said as he and May covered the entrances. Skye took out her backpack and plugged her computer into the control panel. She got access to the floor plan.

“Where are we going?” Coulson asked, trying to speed them along. And instructing Triplett to set up charges of C–4 on some of the vehicles.

Skye tried to determine the probable location of the cadets and of any possible resource they might get out of there in the meantime. There was no reference to them. “Base operations is in the lower level. The security office is on our way down the main hall. We should have eyes on them there.”

“Ok,” Coulson said, asking May to gauge what they were up against in the main hall. May looked around the corner seeing four soldiers stationed with semiautomatic weapons and alarm panels next to them. Even if they took them out quickly, the man in the security office could trigger a lockdown before they got to him.

“We need a distraction,” May said.

“Give me a minute. I think I can do something about that,” Skye said, examining what systems she could override from this control panel.

“What are you thinking?” Jemma asked. 

“A lure,” Skye said, taking over the P.A. system and playing a song from her personal collection in the mess hall nearby.

“Marvin Gaye?” Coulson asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Skye said, defensively. Triplett smiled.

The guards were alert now, but concerned with the origin of the noise, advancing tentatively down the hall, about to make contact with the distant guards over the comm. Triplett, May and Coulson took the opportunity to choke them out while Skye ran to the security office with Jemma following, the guard in there unaware while he checked for the malfunction to the P.A. system. Skye used her I.C.E.R. and pushed the guard out of his chair.

“Clear,” she said proudly to herself. “Okay, I can see them now. They’re in a room close to base operations, I count five of them, I don’t see Callie’s in there. They’re not in chains,” Skye said to the team as they advanced to join her.

“Doesn’t mean they’re here voluntarily. Let’s get down there,” Coulson said.

They moved through the corridor and down the stairs, May and Triplett spearheading. Two guards were briefly on their way. Skye enjoyed seeing her S.O. take people out with flair. It made for good motivation while training.

They were nearing the base operations room. Coulson quickly neutralized the guard posted to protect it. 

“Skye, Triplett, look for anything useful,” Coulson said, guiding them to the cleared room. We’re going after the students, we’ll meet on our way back. “Simmons, you’re with me, we might need a doctor.”

“—Not that kind of doctor,” Jemma said under her breath.

“Still better than me at it. Let’s go,” he ordered.

Skye accessed the computers, looking for data on Hydra’s operations. Triplett guarded the door. There it was, a detailed collection of Hydra’s recruitment dossiers, profiles on every agent used to infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Triplett, look at this,” she said.

“What is it?”

“Remember how the Toolbox only had one side of the coin? I think I’m looking at the other,” Skye said, beginning the transfer. “Oh, no.” 

“What?”

“According to this, Hydra had people in the FBI Science and Technology branch, the Department of Treasury— They’re everywhere.” 

Midway through the file transfer the alarm activated, deafening sound and emergency lights putting them in alert. 

“Was that you?” Triplett shouted, preparing to defend the room.

“No, this didn’t come from here,” Skye moved to one of the control panels to determine the origin. “Jemma?” Skye said over the comm, fearing for her safety. There was no answer.

“We need to go to them, they’re not responding,” Skye said to Triplett. 

“Okay, grab the disk, we’re moving,” he said. Skye complied. He looked down the hall and retreated to the sound of gunfire. “We need to take care of them first.”

He returned fire from cover, but the opposing force was larger than expected. He reloaded his weapon. The hallway erupted briefly with shots and fell quiet. Triplett and Skye were confused. He looked out, the hall clear. 

From the darkness a woman emerged. 

“Don’t shoot,” Callie Hannigan said, wearing a Hydra uniform, her hands up.

“Why the hell not?” Skye asked, her pistol trained on her.

“Because I can get you out. This sector is on lockdown, you’re not gonna make out without my clearance,” she answered. Skye stared at Callie’s security ID. Callie got the meaning and attempted to make a stronger case for herself. “Weaver got you here, didn’t she?” Skye looked at Triplett, giving Callie her answer. “I was ordered to kill her. I stopped her bleeding instead. Gave her a chance, kept my old classmates alive.”

Skye didn’t have time to make this call.

“Turn back, get on your knees,” she said. Triplett zipped her hands together and moved her along with them in direction to the rest of her team.

“You trust her?” Triplett asked Skye, while he pushed her in front of them.

“I don’t know. Figured she’s easier to walk out with than carry,” she answered.

They approached the room with the students. The noise was getting louder as they moved. They took it as a good sign that May and Coulson kept fighting. Skye looked out the corner. Two soldier’s backs. They were in a perfect position to flank them. Triplett took them out, waiting for movement on the room to their right to be friendly.

“Coulson!” Triplett shouted. 

“Boy, am I glad you’re here,” Coulson answered as he, May, Jemma and the five students reunited with them. 

“We need to leave now,” May said, focused.

“Simmons,” Skye said, noticing blood on Jemma’s side.

“I’m all right, I got grazed, barely feel it” she assured her. “We’ll deal with it later.” 

“I see you found cadet Hannigan”, Coulson said, noticing Callie’s restraints.

“I think she can get us out another way,” Skye said. “The layout showed an elevator to the roof.” Callie nodded. 

“We need to warn Fitz and Weaver, then,” Jemma said.

“Are your comms dead?” Skye asked, remembering why she came to get them.

“It’s part of the lockdown, all frequencies other than Hydra’s get scrambled, you just need to deactivate the alarm,” Callie offered.

“Let’s move, on the double,” Coulson ordered.

They dealt with a minor skirmish with the guards, reaching almost without incident the security office, moving a bit slower on account of the students. Callie used her security clearance to kill the alarm and Coulson contacted Fitz and Weaver. 

They made their way to the elevator, preparing their weapons for the moment they reached the roof. The doors opened and they took cover. Three guards made their way for them, but were quickly distracted by trying to keep away from the covering fire Weaver and Fitz lent from the helicopter that emerged from the hill. The chaos made them easy targets for the ground team. 

“Ok, I can now see Weaver’s allure,” Skye said to Jemma once she saw Weaver piloting the helicopter, a tinge of jealousy in her tone.

The helicopter landed and the team made their way out. As soon as they were out of range, there would be a light show.


	11. Future

As soon as they reached the Playground, the cadets were given a meal in the hall, supervised zealously by Koenig. Callie would be given a chance to explain herself in orientation.

As they entered the base, Skye closed in on Jemma and took a closer look at her wound. They hadn’t talked about the previous evening. Skye feared the direction the speech might go in if she prodded. Still, she’d take a wager and treat Jemma as if they were both on the same page.

“You need to get this taken care of,” she said, concerned.

“I’m on my way to the infirmary, Skye,” she explained.

“Let me do it,” she suggested.

“Pardon?”

“I need the practice. Come on, let me do it. You brought me back from the dead, I owe you one.”

“Hardly comparable,” she replied.

“Simmons-“ Skye would not stop.

The infirmary was, in Jemma’s opinion, as lacking as the lab. She let Skye accompany her, and guide her to through the threshold to the table. Skye began gathering what she needed to clean the wound. 

“You’re fussing,” she said.

“No, this is standard procedure,” Skye said, helping her up the table. “Okay, let me see,” she said, expectantly.

Jemma moved her arm out of the way. Skye lifted her shirt and saw the gash. She began to clean the outside.

“I was rather impressed with your heroic arrival,” she said, looking down to Skye, trying not to block the light with her arm. “Most of those men were much larger than you.” The core concept of flirting still eluded her. 

“Thanks?” Skye replied.

“I shot some of them myself. May congratulated me.”

“You know, Simmons, I’ve already got my hand up your shirt, you don’t need to impress me further,” Skye said with a smile. Jemma smiled back. 

“I think I owe you a drink after this,” she said bluntly.

“Not one drink. You accepted to get drunk, that requires more than one, unless you’re more of a light weight than I imagined,” Skye said, putting on the gauze.

“Please, I can drink you under the table, you bloody Yankee,” she bragged. There was something entertaining about Jemma’s quickly escalating quips.

“Oh, yeah, Simmons?”

“Dear god, call me Jemma already. People that have done what you and I have done don’t call each other by their last names—”

“I don’t have a last-“

“- _Not_ the point.”

“All right. Jemma it is.”

–

The students would be debriefed, as would Callie. It had been a good day, not only in accomplishing their primary objectives, but in gaining intel that would allow for the new S.H.I.E.L.D. to determine enemy from foe.

Coulson seemed for the first time content with his job since he became Director. The meeting after the extraction was brief. Skye communicated her findings on how far Hydra had extended its reach, finally giving Coulson an objective. Several, in fact. They were now aware that Hydra was in control of several agencies around the world. Now that they knew who infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D.’S ranks, they could attempt contact with those who could now in turn be trusted.

“Tomorrow is going to be big day. Tomorrow is the day we start digging through the wreckage and pull out friends out. We do this because there is no one else to do it. _We_ are the shield, not this base, not a building, not our or tech. S.H.I.E.L.D. is its people following one principle. To protect. This agency lost its path, the people that cared for its soul outnumbered by the people trying to control it. This is our chance to start over,” Coulson said to his team, looking into their eyes. “We’re not wanted, but we’re needed. We do not turn our back from that responsibility.”

Tomorrow would be a terrifically busy day, he warned. Coulson looked at May, who seemed glad to have some the old Phil back. 

The briefing room was gradually emptied. First May and Coulson made their leave, followed by Triplett and Weaver. Skye sat next to the bar with her tablet and observed them go one by one. Billy Koenig stood near the door frame. He met Skye’s eyes and motioned to his lanyard. Skye instinctively looked down at her own, and saw she was wearing hers. She frowned. Koenig snickered and left the room.

Jemma and Fitz stood over the holocom. She couldn’t hear what Fitz was saying, but his expression was heavy. He moved away and Jemma was left on her own. Skye stood up and walked to Jemma.

“Is he all right? Triplett told me he used the machine,” Skye said, making sure Fitz couldn’t hear them.

“He did,” Jemma answered.

“And?”

“I don’t know if it helped. He— remembered what he told me, before the procedure, I mean. All this time he could remember, and I avoided it. I couldn’t even be honest with him,” Jemma regretted.

“But he knows?”

“I think so,” Jemma said, her eyes returning to Skye. “We’ve already seen so much- I don’t know if I can protect him here-” 

Skye reached for Jemma’s hand. Hers were always cold, but Jemma didn’t seem to mind.

“You can’t. We _are_ the shield. We’re supposed to put others before us. Well, not literally, otherwise, they’d be the shield. I just tried to make my point with a weird image- You know what I mean,” Skye said.

“I do,” Jemma said with a soft smile. 

“Fitz has us. He’ll be all right. He’s one of the bravest people I know, and we’ll look out for each other,” Skye said matter-of-factly. “Without you two, I’d be missing pieces.” 

“You can survive without pieces,” Jemma said.

“Some I need.”

“ _Couldn’t live without her_ ,” Jemma said to herself, remembering. 

“What?” Skye asked, intrigued.

“Something Triplett once mentioned. It makes a lot more sense now.”


End file.
